


the very mention of you

by alby_mangroves, brideofquiet



Series: the summer of a thousand julys [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sex Worker Steve Rogers, Top Steve Rogers, steve tells bucky about sleeping with somebody else and bucky gets hot for it idk, voyeurism adjacent?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/brideofquiet/pseuds/brideofquiet
Summary: “You should tell me about it,” he blurts. “Your first time.”“Oh. Yeah, Buck, sure,” Steve says, leaning in so that Bucky feels his breath before Steve peppers kisses on his shoulders. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”“Now? Please?”





	the very mention of you

**Author's Note:**

> A little epilogue for you that picks up exactly where the main story left off, as a thank you for the positive response! Have some more sexual exploits, featuring another piece of magnificent art from Alby.

Steve, fully uninhibited, behaves about the way a cyclone does, Bucky thinks—a whirlwind force, quick and _ wet. _He kisses with his mouth wide open. Bucky doesn’t mind getting caught up in his storm. Hell, he likes it. The way Steve grabs him by the waistband of his trousers and hauls him toward the bed sends blood flowing right to his dick.

His calves hit the edge of the mattress, but Steve holds him upright. He kisses Bucky’s neck, nosing into the collar of his shirt where his tie’s gone loose. Bucky holds him by the back of the head, his other hand knotted in the cross of Steve’s suspenders. His mouth is too good. Bucky’s not sure he believes in perfect—the ideal form, all that mumbo jumbo—but if anything’s close, it’s Steve lips on his skin. He coaxes him back up to his mouth to kiss him deep and long.

To think, twelve hours ago, today was nothing special.

“We can go as slow as you wanna,” Steve says, his hands petting Bucky’s face. It’s funny that he’d say that, given how feisty he’s being, but Bucky believes him. “Actually, we _ are _ gonna go slow.”

“Okay,” Bucky breathes. “You’re the expert.”

That pulls a laugh from low in Steve’s gut. “Yeah, that’s what they call me.”

He looks so pretty when he laughs. Steve would probably hate to hear Bucky say that—calling him pretty, like he’s a girl, but that’s not how he means it. Steve just _ is. _His golden hair and the freckles to match. His square hips between Bucky’s hands and they way his breath’s hitching, maybe from the closeness or maybe from the exertion. Bucky wishes he’d kept up with drawing so he could put Steve on paper, like Steve does for him sometimes. Just to have him around, always.

Though maybe he need not worry about that too much.

“Will you teach me to draw?” Bucky asks.

“Huh?” Steve smiles at him, lopsided and bemused. “I guess so, Buck. Right now?”

“No—no, not _ now.” _

Steve’s hands frame his jaw, gentler now. “Thought not. Can I ask you something?”

“Any time.”

“Are you nervous about this?”

“About—” Bucky starts to ask, but Steve steps pointedly closer to him. What else? Bucky pauses to consider, and feels an undeniable tug of tension is his stomach. He ducks his head.

“Hey, it’s alright. We don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He lifts his eyes to Steve’s. “I wanna feel you. Inside me.”

The shaky rise of Steve’s chest says he wants it, too. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’m gonna take good care of you, Buck. I’ll talk you through it, okay, and I’ll be gentle.”

The difference a day makes. Bucky may have lost his job this morning, and his nose aches each time it presses into Steve’s cheek while they kiss—but he’s kissing Steve, so the rest doesn’t seem all that important. He’s been out of work before; he’s never had Steve in his arms like this. Bucky had to run home to change clothes to take Steve out, but besides that they haven’t been apart all afternoon. Given that Bucky has nowhere to report to tomorrow, he has no plans to leave Steve’s presence any time soon. It’s just the two of them, for the second time today. That may be the best feeling of all.

“How do you want me?” Bucky asks.

Steve pinches his hip. “Let’s start with naked.”

_ That smirk is gonna be the death of me, _ Bucky thinks. And people call _ him _ the flirt. Steve’s hands slide Bucky’s tie loose, letting it drop to the floor. He gets Bucky’s shirt open and runs hands over him like smoothing out bedsheets. Forgoing the undershirt had been the right move. Unable to stand the inequality a second longer, Bucky flicks Steve’s suspenders off and divests him of his own shirt. It’s only when they’re standing there half-dressed that either of them realizes the curtain’s still open.

“Shit,” Steve says, but he’s giggling as he climbs around Bucky to pull it shut. Once he’s on the bed, there’s no use getting off, so Bucky follows him. They drag each other’s trousers off with some awkward kicking and a little more laughter. Getting naked with Steve is still new enough to feel remarkable—though Bucky’s not sure that the sight of him pale and bare will ever be anything less. 

After some obvious admiring, Bucky flops back onto the pillow and makes himself comfortable. “So tell me again about how gorgeous I am, huh, Steve?”

Steve, from where he’s kneeling, flicks Bucky on the sternum. “You’re so vain.”

“Told me yourself I got a right to be.”

Steve grabs him by the chin, a little rough, and leans in close. “You just need somebody to tell you you’re pretty,” he says, his other hand gliding down Bucky’s ribs. “Is that it, Buck?”

And Jesus _ Christ, _ if that doesn’t make Bucky’s cock jump. Steve sees right through him, catching every little detail in the middle. Maybe it’s something he picked up on the job, but Bucky sure as hell doesn’t mind. It’s the whole situation in microcosm: he didn’t know he needed it till Steve laid it out in front of him on chinaware. A little mean, a little indulgent. Steve may not want to be called pretty, but Bucky’s here tonight to take anything Steve will give him.

In lieu of an answer, Bucky surges up to join their mouths together again. Steve makes a noise like _ mmph _ but kisses him back anyway. His knee makes its way between Bucky’s, knocking his legs farther apart.

“You’re a sight” —Steve gives him one soft peck— “and a half.”

Bucky cups the back of his head to keep him from going too far. “You too, you know.”

Steve’s eyes roll.

“No, huh uh.” Bucky shakes him by the nape of the neck. “You believe me when I’m talking to you now, remember?”

“Alright, okay! We’re a pair of lookers.”

“Don’t forget it.”

The bed frame croaks pitifully when Steve collapses onto Bucky’s chest, his smile pressed into skin. Bucky can feel Steve’s half-hard cock against his hip, inches from his own. “Okay, gorgeous Buck,” Steve says, “you wanna ask me anything?”

“No. I trust you.”

Steve’s fingers trace patterns over his heart. They both take deep breaths. Bucky means it, more deeply than that—he’d let Steve guide him blindfolded through Manhattan traffic. He hopes Steve understands that. That Steve trusts him in turn.

“You might not like it.”

“I will.”

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Steve, it’s sex with you—I’ll like it.”

“I didn’t, the first few times. It can take some getting used to.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s hand stills where he’d been petting the crown of Steve’s head. “When was the first time?”

“Um. When I was seventeen.” 

Bucky starts to sit up, but Steve pushes him back down onto the pillow. “Four _ years _ ago, and you didn’t say—”

“Oh, gee.”

“You coulda told me. Even if you hadn’t said it was a man, you coulda said something.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now, don’t I?”

The sigh rolls out of Bucky’s lungs before he can help it, but it’s not a bad sound. Steve’s right; there’s no sense arguing over it anymore. They’re honest now—both of them. A few years in the middle don’t make any difference. Steve kisses his jaw, then his mouth, and all’s forgiven.

“Turn over?” he asks softly.

A burst of excited energy flutters through Bucky’s stomach as he moves to comply. “How should I—”

“Just, if you want, with your hands—”

“This is good?”

“Yeah, Buck, that’s perfect.”

He settles on his knees, his forearms folded over the bar of Steve’s bed frame. The metal is cool to the touch, even in summer, making him all the more aware of the air floating through the room—the way Steve’s shifting on the mattress behind him. Steve coaxes his knees farther apart with light hands on his thighs.

He feels exposed.

“You should tell me about it,” he blurts.

“Hmm?”

“Your first time.”

“Oh. Yeah, Buck, sure,” Steve says, leaning in so that Bucky feels his breath before Steve peppers kisses on his shoulders. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“Now? Please?”

Steve’s hands are petting at his hips, and it’s making Bucky’s lungs jump on each inhale—nervous, thrilled, edging toward something else. Steve’s cock bumps into his thigh, leaving a wet smear that immediately chills in the air. Steve’s touch leaves him, and there’s the sound of a tin lid spinning open before Steve is back, thumbs kneading into his low back.

“Do you remember Miriam Wallace?” Steve asks, his voice low.

“Uh.” Bucky frowns. “Yeah? I went steady with her for a while when we were—oh.”

Steve laughs softly. One hand smooths down Bucky’s back, lower, to grip him by the rear. Bucky draws in a ragged breath. “Don’t know if you’ll remember this night, but I think it was your third or fourth date with her. You asked me to meet you all out dancing so you could introduce us.”

“Had to get your approval, didn’t I?”

“You sap. Anyways,” Steve continues, his hold loosening to stroke slow circles over Bucky’s skin, “I met her, you two danced, we had a couple drinks. You said you wanted to walk her home, I said that was fine, I was headed home myself. Only I didn’t go home.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Arch your back a little for me, Buck—there you go. Beautiful. I’m gonna touch you now, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hand strays around his hips first to take him by the cock. Bucky yelps softly at the abrupt touch of Steve’s cool fingers, but he relaxes into it quickly, sighing out. Even if this was all he ever got—Steve stroking him slow, loose—he thinks he’d be content. He could come just like this if Steve gave him long enough. But then his hand is gone, drifting back, the other one prying him carefully open. If he felt exposed before, it’s nothing compared to—

“God almighty,” Steve breathes. “I’m so happy I get to do this for you. Oh, look at you.”

Bucky buries his red face in his arms and groans. Steve hasn’t even touched him where it counts tonight yet, but just his words feel like they might unravel him. He’d cleaned himself up, but knowing Steve’s looking at him right there—that he likes what he sees—makes Bucky feel unexpectedly shy. He drags out his name: “Steve.”

“I know, I’ve got you.” Steve’s thumb dips between his cheeks and presses, dry, over his hole. Reflexively, Bucky flinches away from the touch, but Steve doesn’t let him escape so easy; he finds him again and starts rubbing soft little circles. It feels—not bad, not good. New. Extravagantly intimate.

“So instead of going home,” Steve continues in a low voice, and Bucky remembers what they’re talking about, “I went walking toward the waterfront, thought I’d find a nice breeze. Get some air, maybe another drink, call it a night—didn’t like going out without you much. I guess I should tell you by this point I pretty much knew I liked men, but I had no idea what to do about it.”

“Did you like me then?”

“Probably. Don’t think I’d admitted it to myself yet, though.”

“Steve,” Bucky whines.

“Shush, I’m telling the story—you just relax, shh, there you go.” He pulls his thumb away, must lick it, because when it returns it’s wet. Bucky bites his lip at the changed sensation but keeps breathing. “I ended up on a street where men like to cruise. This big-shouldered guy, name was Antoni, saw me and started talking to me, very sweet so I knew immediately what he was doing. And I thought—well. What if I did? So I let him take me home with him.”

The touch leaves again. Bucky mumbles out a protest, but then Steve’s finger is back, this time with something thick and greasy on it. The jelly.

“Buck, I need you to bear down for me a little, okay? That’s it, yeah, you’re perfect. If it hurts at all, you gotta tell me.”

Steve’s slick fingertip slowly, gingerly breaches him and pushes inside in one long motion.

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, and chokes on the rest of it.

Steve stills. “Bucky?”

“That’s…”

“Strange?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

“Good strange?” Steve twist his finger, and the furrow in Bucky’s brow deepens. “Or bad?”

“Um. Jury’s still out.”

“Like I told you—”

“I know. Don’t stop—keep going, keep talking.”

“Touch yourself, if you want. It helps.”

Bucky shifts his weight to free a hand and wraps it around his dick. Just as he strokes, Steve slides his finger out, back in. It’s easier not to mind it with the too-good feeling of touching himself—easier to relax into the foreign feeling of something pushing in.

“That’s it,” Steve murmurs, dropping a lingering kiss to Bucky spine. “I’m just gonna finger you a while, try to stay relaxed.”

“So what happened with Antoni?”

Steve chuckles. “Right, right. So we went back to his place—total rat trap, by the way, but it’s not like I had room to judge. He kissed me and put his hands on me, but he wasn’t so rough like I’d thought he would be.”

_ “Oh,” _ Bucky gasps. Maybe it’s just the monologue getting to him— “Steve, that’s ...”

“Yeah?” Steve’s finger presses again—more insistently this time—to that spot that sent a shock up Bucky’s spine. Bucky grunts and fidgets, trying to get away and lean into it all at once. Steve just keeps rubbing that spot inside him like a goddamn worry stone.

“What is that?” he manages, breathier than he expected.

“‘S your prostate. Remember when you found mine?”

Right—he’d curled his finger, and Steve…

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Steve says.

“It feels… like something.” Pleasure, maybe—a little bit like he needs to use the bathroom. 

Steve’s laugh is loud and joyful. “Anyways, so Antoni gets me in his rinky-dink single-wide bed—shocking resemblance to this very frame. I tell him I’ve never done this before, because it feels like he ought to know. He laughed and said he’d already figured that out, which was kinda insulting. So he turned me over and stuck his thumb in me” —at that, Steve prods deeper into Bucky’s body, pulling a shaky whine out of him— “and after that, his cock. It was fuckin big, Bucky, I don’t know how the hell I did it.”

And Bucky can imagine it, easy as anything. Some strong Italian spreading Steve’s legs open wide and finding the place where he can fit between them. The way Steve’s face would’ve pinched, the way it does the rare times he can’t make his mind up about something. Bucky’s mouth goes a little dry while Steve’s fingers keep pressing into him.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

He feels Steve shrug. “A little, but like I said, he wasn’t rough with me. Couldn’t help he had a Statue of Liberty-size dick. I mean, the lady’s 300 feet tall, so not actually, but you know what I mean.”

“Steve, I—please.”

“You want a little more? Okay, you’re doing so good, just breathe.”

A second fingertip slots against Bucky’s rim and persistently wedges itself inside. It’s a stretch already, just two of Steve’s slim fingers, but it’s not painful—just a lot of sensation. Bucky lets his lungs fill and empty, Steve’s other hand resting on his back, grounding.

“You’re a fuckin natural, Buck, that’s so good.” Steve crooks his fingers, immediately finding his prostate again, and Bucky shudders while he taps at it. Steve doesn’t work him over again, though, just starts sliding his fingers in and out the way he’ll do with his cock soon. Bucky drops his forehead to his arms and pants.

“You want me to keep talking?” Steve whispers.

“I… Yeah, please, do you mind?”

He likes thinking of Steve with other men, but this is more than that. He imagines that somehow, if Steve tells him about his first time while he gives Bucky his own—then those two events, separated by years, become inextricably linked. A shared experience, if only in their heads.

It’s sappy as all hell. He’ll never say it out loud.

“‘Course,” Steve says, fingernails scritching Bucky’s back, all soothing. “So Antoni fucks me, and I didn’t really like it but I didn’t dislike it either—I don’t know. But after he came, he flipped me over and started sucking me off, and I’ll tell you I came _ so _ fast. It might’ve been embarrassing, but Antoni just assumed I was close from the penetration. Maybe that was it, I don’t know, but that part had me _ sold.” _

“Did you see him again?”

“Mm. Once, a couple months later. Felt really good that time.”

Bucky’s own first time had been just a handful of months prior, if he has his timeline right. A girl named Maggie that he’d been seeing for a while, whose parents worked evening shifts most days. She’d been shy about it, and so had Bucky once it got down to it—in retrospect it was nothing spectacular, even if it had felt that way at the time. He’s told Steve about it a dozen times if he’s told him once.

“Buck?” Steve asks, his hand stilling. “What’s up?”

He has to let his lip free from between his teeth to talk. “Nothing—just thinking I’m glad he took care of you.”

Steve snorts. “You’re such a romantic, pal, I eat it up.”

“Don’t make fun—”

“Hey, no, I’m not.” Steve leans over him to cup his jaw, pull Bucky’s face around to look at him. His eyes shine. “I’m not making fun.”

“Well, good.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.”

Their mouths meet, easy and surprisingly chaste. Bucky can feel the change of angle it creates for Steve’s fingers inside him, pulling him open, till eventually Steve prioritizes and lets his fingers slip free. Bucky whimpers into his mouth but keeps kissing him. Steve’s slick hand slides all over his hip, turning Bucky to face him so he can deepen the kiss into something hot, dirty—promising.

“If you wanna stop here,” Steve murmurs, his lips barely leaving Bucky’s, “that’s fine. Really wanna blow you anyway.”

The offer is more than tempting, but Bucky’s in this bed with a mission. “Maybe after, like Antoni did for you. But I want you to fuck me.”

Steve smiles, a little devilish but mostly just sweet. “You think you’re ready?”

“How would I… How do I know that?”

“Hm. Do you feel relaxed, like…” Steve reaches between his legs again and pushes his fingers against Bucky’s hole. His body almost welcomes the intrusion this time, when Steve slides his fingers in—no sting, hardly any resistance. “I mean, you seem open to me. How’s that feel?”

“It’s… I think I like it.” Sometime in the last few minutes he’s crossed the threshold from strange to good. “I want your cock.”

Steve bites his lip, looking at him. “You know, Bucky, saying that really makes you sound like a homosexual.”

“You proud?”

That makes Steve laugh delightedly. “Yeah, actually. Okay, here, hold the bed frame again—I wanna be able to touch you.”

Bucky gets himself back in position, fighting his body’s natural inclination to tense up at the anticipation of it all. The soft tear of a paper packet seems awfully loud; it drowns out all the white noise of the city till all he can here is Steve’s sigh as he rolls the rubber onto himself. Then Steve is palming at his ass again, holding him apart, and Bucky thinks about the way Steve’s hole had looked just before he’d fucked him for the first time, in a very similar position. He hopes he looks half as mouth-watering.

Then something warm and thick slots between his cheeks—Steve’s cock. He just rubs himself there for a while, either teasing or letting Bucky get used to the idea of a dick so close to his asshole, or maybe both.

“Gimme your hand,” Steve breathes, leaning forward to pull at Bucky’s elbow. Bucky drops one palm from the bed frame to reach back and thread his fingers through Steve’s. They rest their hands against his hip. And Steve calls him the romantic. “I’m gonna put it in you now—keep breathing, breathe into it, and bear down for me like before. Tell me if I’m moving too fast.”

What is unmistakably the head of Steve’s cock presses against him, and Bucky wants to turn rigid, fight against the feeling of something trying to get inside him—but Steve squeezes his hand hard, and Bucky lets the instinct go. He breathes out a heavy exhale. Steve’s hips start to push forward, and Bucky’s body has to give to him—must. The first inch makes Bucky’s eyes widen; the next few have him squeezing them shut, gripping Steve’s hand tight.

“Fuck,” he gasps. His free hand drops to the mattress.

Steve stills, and it’s gratifying that he sounds just as affected when he asks, “That good or bad?”

“I don’t—don’t know. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no—I’m okay. Doesn’t hurt really, it’s just… Steve, you have a big dick.”

Steve snorts a laugh. The noise jostles the place where they’re joined, and Bucky hisses. “Sorry, sorry—don’t say stuff like that if you don’t want me to laugh.”

“Not a joke, ‘s’true.”

“Oh, and have you seen a lot of dicks to compare?”

“Don’t need to.” 

He has a moment of surreal clarity where he thinks, _ Steve has his cock up my ass. _A shocked laugh bubbles out of his own mouth. Steve, ever resourceful, uses his distraction to slide the rest of the way into him. Bucky’s laugh shakes into a groan when Steve’s hips meet the backs of his thighs.

“God, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, sweetheart—please, come on, lemme feel you.”

Steve’s free hand smooths up his spine, then curves around his waist to hold him steady. Nerves curl in Bucky’s gut—but Steve has him, it’s just Steve. Steve buried in him to the root, till he slides back out. Just Steve thrusting back into him, measured and easy, then grinding so Bucky can feel it in the deepest parts of his body, his gut and his heart and every messy bit in the middle. He chokes out noises that want to be words—maybe _ wow, _ or _ thank you. _ Then Steve works toward a tempo, something steady and sweet like a nice slow dance. And the man says he has no rhythm. Bucky can hear himself gasping, unbidden, at each stroke of Steve’s cock through him. It feels good, it feels unbearable; it feels everything.

“You look so beautiful,” Steve tells him, “opening for me like this, honey. Can I call you that? Do you mind? You feel so good, Buck, Jesus.”

Steve has kept to Bucky’s moratorium on calling him pet names till now, no problems—but he can hear it in Steve’s voice now that it’s sincere, not some mechanism to draw a line, but a way to bring them closer. _ Honey _ like something Steve wants to eat.

“Yeah, yes, call me that, _ oh—” _

Steve’s hips drive harder, a jolt in Bucky’s core. “That’s it, honey, you’re doing beautifully—you want me to touch you?”

“Please, please.”

Steve shifts to reach for his cock, but what he finds is soft. Bucky’s eyes drop to it, perplexed—he hadn’t even realized—

“Hey, shh, that’s okay, it happens. I’ll help, I’ve got you.”

His fingers circle around him, pulling and stroking, off rhythm with his thrusts. Bucky sits up a little just to give him better access, and suddenly Steve’s dick is plowing right into his prostate so directly that he cries out from the shock of sensation. Steve must know what he’s found because he doesn’t change his angle, just his speed, slowing to grind over that spot again and again till Bucky’s eyes start to water. His cock fattens up in Steve’s hand easy as anything. The whole combination is enough to overwhelm him. He can feel his thighs shaking. He reaches back, wanting to feel where Steve has him rent open. Even Steve gasps at the feel of Bucky’s fingers touching both of them.

“Jesus, Buck, you’re something else.”

“Fuck, Steve, Christ, I’m gonna—I’m—”

“Shit, oh, move my pillow—”

Steve tosses the thing to the floor just in time for Bucky to pour all over where it had just been. His eyes shutter closed and he comes, and keeps coming, long enough that he loses all sense of time. Steve’s cock keeps moving inside him, his hand still stroking, working him through it from both ends. When he’s done, the world feels blurry and sideways, like it’s just been realigned. 

The first thing he notices is Steve’s raspy breathing hot on his skin. “You with me, honey?” Steve asks softly.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. He wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Wow.”

“I’m gonna pull out, big exhale for me—”

“You don’t have to—”

But as soon as Steve starts to move, he understands. The sensation crawls over his skin, gone from _ so much _ to _ too much. _ A pained sound falls out of his mouth when Steve slips free of him. He feels loose and open—a little raw, though that one’s not just physical. Steve grabs a towel from the ether to spread over the wet spot on the sheets, then helps Bucky lie down on his front. The late hour starts to catch up with him, but his brain’s not quite off yet.

“Hey,” he says, “you gotta come, too.”

Steve chuckles. “Working on it. Do you—can I come on you? That okay?”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Bucky rolls over—too fast, landing hard on his backside. He winces and shifts to find a more comfortable spot.

“Sore?”

“It’s not bad.”

“You get used to it.”

Bucky smiles. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

Steve offers a grin of his own and climbs over to kiss him hotly. He whines into Bucky’s mouth, touching himself, and soon enough Bucky feels him spilling warm all over his stomach. He pulls away from Steve’s lips to watch. To think that cock had been inside him minutes ago—had made him come harder than he’d thought possible.

By the time he’s wrung out, Steve is pink and wheezing. His eyes flutter open again, looking bright and hazy. Bucky just looks his fill, all over him, cupping Steve’s face to feel how warm that flush makes him feel.

“I always thought you were good-looking, you know,” Bucky says. “Even before all this.”

Steve’s jaw shifts under his palm, firming up. His eyes turn narrow and intense.

“Steve? You look like you’re about to punch me in the face.” God, is he? “Steve, you’re not about to punch me in the face for sayin that, are you?”

“I love you,” Steve says, fierce.

“... Oh.”

_ “Oh?” _

“I mean—well, hell—”

“Okay, great, Buck, thank you,” Steve says, flat, a mess of bony elbows as he starts to clamber off Bucky, off the bed, away.

That simply won’t do.

_ “Steve,” _ Bucky says, a laugh in his voice. He lassos him around the waist and hauls him back where he belongs, on top of him and covered in both their messes. Steve goes _ oof, _ putting up a fight he doesn’t seem all that invested in. Bucky gives him a shake. “Sweetheart, come on, what are you doing? Turning everything into a fight, I swear to God. Give me about five seconds to get my head on straight, you fucked it somewhere into the corner.”

Steve sighs, overdramatic, before burrowing down to wait Bucky out. His arms lash around Bucky’s neck, face buried in his clavicle like he means to stay right there. As if Bucky minds at all. He runs his hands down Steve’s bare back, fingers pausing over the places where he knows there’s freckles and moles. Steve’s heart thrums loud between them like it wants to be known. Bucky supposes it does. If he knows anything in this world, it’s that when Steve speaks from his heart, he always means it.

“You gotta know I love you, too,” Bucky says, and it’s less scary to admit it than he’d thought. He’s all but said it by now anyway.

Steve squirms and mumbles, “Really?”

“‘Course, you big galoot. Can’t believe you said that right after you had an orgasm, though—makes a guy really _ think.” _

“Bucky.” Steve pinches his shoulder. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“Oh, you can’t. Your heart’s all mine now, sweetie.”

“I oughta clobber you like you thought.”

“Well, get your head out of the sand and do it then.”

Steve sits up, his fists raised, but he’s wearing this twisty smile and his face is strawberry red from ear to ear. He looks downright bashful. Bucky grins up at him and reaches for his hands, pulling him closer. The neighbor upstairs cranks the radio up on a cheery tune—perfect accompaniment for the way Bucky’s feeling. He kisses Steve on the nose before he sets his lips to his mouth.

After long minutes of what must be pure bliss, Steve mumbles, “We should get cleaned up.”

“Mm. You’re right. Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For” —Bucky waves a hand at the ceiling, at Steve— “everything. Making that so good.”

Steve’s happy hum vibrates through their pressed-together bodies. “Of course. Are you staying here tonight?”

“Can I?”

“That was permission, pal.”

They clean up—folding clothes, changing sheets, washing where they need to wash. It takes longer than it ought to because Bucky keeps pausing to kiss Steve again, and Steve keeps pausing to let him.

“You know,” Bucky says as he climbs back into bed wearing a pair of Steve’s underpants, “since I don’t have a job anymore, I could just stay here all the time. You could keep me right here.” He settles onto Steve’s pillow. “And I never have to go anyplace else.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What, and I’m gonna pay your way?”

“Aren’t you?”

“You’re a laugh riot,” Steve says, “now roll over and make some room.”

Steve cuts the lamp off before he slots in behind him. His knee hooks between Bucky’s, his arm draped over his waist. Steve’s forehead presses to the nape of his neck. It’s easy for Bucky to let his eyes close like this—content as content can be.

“I was only joking,” he says. “I’m gonna get another job.”

“I know you will, Buck. I’ll help you look.”

“Thank you.”

The dark and quiet feels like another blanket wrapping them up. Bucky’s breathing starts to even out. He could get used to this, falling asleep in Steve’s arms. His body aches in new and fascinating ways, and it’s bound to be worse tomorrow. But he likes it—knowing what caused it, and how much it had made him feel.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve’s breath is soft on his skin.

“Mm?”

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

That bigger-than-earth feeling wells up in him at Steve’s words. He’s got a name for it now. 

“Me too, sweetheart. On top of the world.”


End file.
